


genesis

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Will Graham, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Blood and Injury, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Couch Sex, Creampie, Dark Will Graham, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Impregnation, Impregnation Fantasy, Infertility, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Hannibal Lecter, Recordings, Restraints, Self-Lubrication, Somnophilia, Top Will Graham, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: The fish of Hannibal's trust is a spritely and skittish thing, but Will is patient. He can follow the bubbles in the water and the shining slip of scales within the currents. He can fashion beautiful lures, both mental and physical, to please and soften his mate.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 19
Kudos: 381





	genesis

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [prime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288978) by [YouAreMyDesign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign). 

It is a rare night that sees Hannibal falling asleep in his study instead of in his own bed. As a man of determined routine and near god-like time management, as well as someone who can easily accommodate a full schedule and peak performance on four to five hours of sleep a night, he does not often become so fatigued that going upstairs and performing his usual nightly routine seems more effort than it's worth. Nor does he drink so much as to become ungainly and unable to ascend the stairs of his home.

He is, however, prone to overzealousness when it comes to new subjects of interest. Will teases him about this often, but the fact of the matter is Hannibal has the means and the space and the connections to accommodate any new interest that strikes his fancy, and given how normally packed his schedule is, it seems only reasonable to clear a day every now and again to read as many books, visit as many sites, and soak in as much knowledge as he can.

Apparently, Will notes as he enters Hannibal's study on silent feet, shrugs off his sweater and idly peruses the spines of the stack of books by Hannibal's couch arm, his new obsession is the history and application of binary code in stitching patterns. Or something to do with fabric – crocheting, knitting, there's even a book on the modern loom. Will hums to himself, and wonders if a flurry of attempts at scarves and hats is in his future.

The thought brings a smile to his face. The weather is turning colder, and the idea of Hannibal trying to bundle them up with homemade clothes is as ridiculous as it is endearing. Truly, despite all the things that might bely that fact, Hannibal is an omega at heart, and enjoys things that come close to the realm of taking care of the home, and his alpha inside it.

It has been a tiring day; long commutes on aesthetically uninteresting roads with nothing but Jack's abrasive voice and case talk for company, and Will is not one to deny himself indulgences, not since Hannibal, so he only pauses for a moment to move the little coffee table away from the couch, giving him space to kneel down at Hannibal's feet so he can begin to unlace his shoes.

Hannibal stirs, always sensitive to Will's scent and quick to rise at the slightest disturbance of air, but Will is surprised to see that he does not open his eyes, nor does he give any other sign of awareness. Will smiles, warm in his chest to think that his mate's instincts have settled enough to be comfortable around him, even in sleep, and carefully finishes with Hannibal's shoes, scooping his feet out of them and setting them to one side. He rolls his socks down as well, balls them up and places them in his shoes, and rises gracefully to his feet.

Hannibal has shed his tie at some point, or maybe he didn't wear one today. His shirt is open at the top two buttons, his jacket parted to reveal his shiny belt buckle. Will leans down and gently cradles his ankles, coaxing him up and onto his side. Hannibal sighs, sliding down on the couch, turns and nuzzles the cushion, but again, does not wake.

It is so rare to see him completely without safeguards and carefully chosen mannerisms. He made his attraction to Will evident from the beginning, courted and appeased him and waited for Will to take the bait, all with the same air of aloof determination and casual coquettish behavior typical of omega breeds. He played his part well – Will was lost to him, hook, line, sinker. Still, it took several months before Hannibal would show glimpses of his true self, making Will turn to his own role of fisherman – one he played damn well, if he does say so himself.

The fish of Hannibal's trust is a spritely and skittish thing, but Will is patient. He can follow the bubbles in the water and the shining slip of scales within the currents. He can fashion beautiful lures, both mental and physical, to please and soften his mate.

Now, Hannibal is his, and his body, his home, are both Will's by right. By the time that possibility became truth, Will had no need to take it; it was already his. Still, he allows Hannibal his sanctuary because frankly they're both more solitary than most mated pairs, and so Hannibal never had to hone his nesting instinct to accommodate Will. Will is a stranger amidst his things.

So to see him now, relaxed and asleep and trusting, affects Will deeply. Because Hannibal does not sense him, he has allowed himself to feel so safe under Will's hand that he fears no invasion, no threat. The presence and scent of Will does not strike him as something Other, something foreign, but welcome. Will is welcome here.

Will leans down and nuzzles his hair, breathing in his scent; woodsmoke, paper, aniseed, ink. Hannibal's only reaction is to sigh, his fingers curling and lax against the couch, as Will coaxes him onto his back and gently tugs his belt loose and open, sliding it free with a slither of leather against fabric.

Hannibal draws in a breath, his brow creasing, and Will smiles and leans down, letting out a soft purr as he cups Hannibal's face and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Just me, baby," he murmurs, relishing the way Hannibal shivers and settles at the sound of his voice. He tilts his head, seeking, and Will kisses him again, licks lightly over the pretty flush on his high cheekbones, and rubs a hand over his nape.

He squeezes gently, prompting Hannibal's lips to part in a small gasp, and Will quickly takes the little sachet of powder in his pocket, tears it open with his teeth so his fingers become coated with it, and slides his fingers into Hannibal's mouth, coating his tongue and gums with the powder. It's a concoction of his own making – normally for his dogs to calm them down during fireworks or festivals, since there are so many when the Wolf Trap concert season opens, but perfectly safe for his mate as well. Hannibal frowns at the taste, but offers no protest as Will pets his fingers down his tongue, coating his gums and teeth with the powder, and then pulls his fingers out, wiping them clean in Hannibal's hair.

It will not keep him under, if he decides to wake, but he will be in no condition to move or fight.

Hannibal wets his lips and Will kisses his forehead again, gently coaxing him onto his belly on the couch. He straddles Hannibal's knees and settles there, flattening himself over his mate's back and nuzzling his neck as Hannibal shivers, groaning and stretching out beneath him. He makes such pretty sounds whenever Will touches him.

Will reaches down to dig around inside his bag, pulling out his tape recorder, and begins a new recording track. He sets it down on the coffee table by Hannibal's books, and then reaches beneath Hannibal's stomach, finding the button of his suit pants and undoing it, and pulls the zip down so that it's loose enough for him to work his pants and underwear to his thighs, baring his ass.

He growls, shuddering as he lowers his greedy gaze. His hands flatten and pull, spreading his ass to expose his rim. He's dry, for now, but that'll change soon. Will slides back and bows down, nuzzling Hannibal's tailbone as he dips his thumbs between his thighs, rubbing along his perineum and putting pressure on his prostate from the outside as he parts his jaws, pushes forward with his tongue, and licks a broad stripe over Hannibal's pink rim.

Hannibal shivers, moaning weakly, his hips giving a juddering little thrust. Will smiles, wide and savage, and licks again, pushing his tongue as deep inside his mate as he can. The leather couch beneath them creaks as Hannibal's fingers curl, his thighs tighten and try to draw together, and he moves his head in a heavy roll, lashes parting to reveal a slip of his iris.

Will smiles, and lets out a pleased purr. "Just relax, baby," he murmurs, and slides a hand under Hannibal's shirt, spreading out wide on Hannibal's spine to keep him down. He licks over Hannibal's rim again, pleased to taste the fresh beading slick. He swallows it down with a ravenous snarl, pushes deeper with his tongue as Hannibal trembles beneath him, his breath catching and his legs trying to spread in invitation.

Will spreads his fingers out wide beneath the meat of Hannibal's ass, coaxing him to lift his hips. He obeys sluggishly, groaning loudly against the couch cushions but too out of it to do more. It's a gut-deep satisfying feeling, seeing Hannibal so lax, helpless beneath his hands. Will nips at the edge of his rim and rubs his scruffy cheek against his ass, smiling as the skin turns pink and chafes against his beard.

"Will," Hannibal gasps, clenching up and reaching back sluggishly, trying to get a handful of hair, or of skin. He can't reach, much less grab, can't do anything but fall limply against the couch and take in deep, shivering breaths.

Will rises with a growl, pawing at his slacks to free his hard cock and giving himself a single stroke, shuddering at the tightness. No competition, he thinks, when compared to how slick and hot and tight Hannibal is on the inside. His greedy mate has a body that begs to be mounted and filled, marked up and dominated – so clean-cut, so poised and controlled all the time. Will was made to ruin him.

He prowls over Hannibal and leans down to nuzzle his reddened cheek, breathing in the new scents of sweat and arousal from Will's mouth. Will doesn't kiss him, mindful of the drug still sitting heavy on his tongue, but bites down harshly on the arch of his ear, pulling his ass apart to bare his hole as he ruts against it.

Hannibal paws at the couch, maybe trying to lift into Will, maybe trying to get away. It doesn't matter. Will bites his neck so that he goes lax and snarls against his skin; "You're going to let me knock you up this time." Hannibal shivers, whining weakly, a pitiful little noise he never lets Will hear normally, but his throat is too raw and his tongue too swollen to stop it. His lip twitches, showing teeth. Will shows his own in return, a feral grin, and he laughs. "Don't worry, baby, I'm using a condom. Promise."

Hannibal blinks, brow furrowing as much as it can with his face and body so lax, but his eyes fly open wide as Will lines himself up and starts to sink in. Sensitive as Hannibal is, he can probably feel that, no, there is no protective barrier of latex between his body and Will's. He squirms in place, huffing in distress, his scent turning smoky with anger.

Will laughs again, the sound sticking in his throat as he pushes inside, groaning at the hot clench of Hannibal's wet ass around his cock. "_Fuck_, you feel good, baby," he purrs, nuzzling Hannibal's damp hair. His fingers clench tight in his mate's hips, keeping him pinned, though Hannibal can't put up much of a fight. "Your ass is so fucking hungry for it."

"Will," Hannibal says, weak but with an undeniable undercurrent of warning.

"Can't help it, baby," Will laughs. "I promised I'd get you all tied up and helpless. Turns out I didn't even need to use restraints." He pushes in another inch, snarling as Hannibal's ass seizes up around him – trying to push him out, probably. It doesn't matter. "Lookin' at you, all sweet and sleepy. Makes me wanna do all kinds of awful things to you."

Hannibal growls at him, a powerful rumble vibrating from his back into Will's chest. Will smiles in answer, and bites down harder on the back of his neck, forcing his pliancy, his consent, as he pushes all the way inside and settles, fully sheathed, in his mate's sweet, slick hole.

"I'm gonna put a fuckin' baby in you," he promises, wiping away all of the tenuous pretense. Hannibal tenses up, turns his head so Will can see his glaring eyes, his down-turned mouth. "And you're gonna be a good little breeder and let me."

Hannibal snarls again, his fingers twitching and lifting to claw at Will's hips. He knows Hannibal hates that word. Will moans, the pain of Hannibal's nails in his skin only spurring him on. He starts up a slow, unhurried pace, fucking in as deep as he can until he feels Hannibal's cervix butting up against the head of his cock. Open, parted already, just waiting for something to flood it like rainwater in a gutter.

"You can't," Hannibal breathes, panting as Will fucks him, because for all his weak protests, Will knows just how to fuck him, how to get him wet and wanting and sweet in his surrender. "You're impotent."

Will laughs, and ruts his teeth against the mating mark on Hannibal's neck. "Vasectomies can be reversed, baby," he replies with a wide smile.

Hannibal locks up, at that, and lets out another powerful growl, trying to twist and fight his way free. He can't – his muscles are too weak, his head too full of fog, and Will is strong. He is alpha, all-powerful, unrelenting as the Genesis God. He will send his flood and His chosen will rise anew with His legacy.

Hannibal claws at the couch beneath him, trying to rise, and Will pins him down easily, hands on his shoulders and teeth in his neck. "You're mine," he growls, punctuating the words with another forceful thrust. "My good little breeding bitch."

Hannibal snaps his teeth together, turns his head with what feels like monumental effort and sinks his teeth into Will's jaw, closing as hard as he can around the bone. Will laughs at him for it, fucking in harder, pain sending ricochets of sensation down his spine and straight to his cock. He drags his claws down Hannibal's flanks, holds his hips in place and squeezes his knees together, keeping him pinned as he fucks with enough force that the couch creaks beneath their weight.

He closes his eyes, moaning as he feels, despite Hannibal's protests, his body clenching up tight with pleasure, his scent sharp-sweet with arousal, his ass gushing with slick. He grins, off-kilter and wide, blood in his teeth as Hannibal is forced to let him go, collapsing onto the couch again with another strained breath. He grabs his mate's hair and keeps him pinned.

The sounds of their bodies colliding is loud and obscene, and Will groans, dropping his forehead to Hannibal's shoulder, smearing his sweat along his nice shirt, and goes still with a grunt, forcing his knot inside. Hannibal shudders, clenching around him, tightening and bearing down, and Will lets out a viscerally satisfied noise as he comes, dirtying his fine couch and expensive clothes. He keeps rutting, forcing his mate through another orgasm just as the last one ends, and at the sound of Hannibal's soft, resigned whimper, he starts to come, flooding Hannibal's ass with his release.

He breathes out, and gentles, rubbing his hands back up Hannibal's flanks, down his arms, and laces their fingers together. He nuzzles Hannibal's neck and licks over the bites he left behind, purring loudly as Hannibal's shuddering body works his knot, keeping it hard and swollen, keeping him plugged up so nothing spills out.

He sighs, and smiles, and Hannibal turns his head, looking a little more alert. He wets his dry lips and swallows. "What did you give me?"

"A mild sedative," Will replies with a cavalier shrug. "I use it on my dogs to chill them out during storms."

Hannibal hums. "Inspired."

Will grins, and kisses his cheek. "Thanks for indulging me."

"I don't believe indulging you is the right word for this." Hannibal shifts his weight when Will huffs a laugh, and lets out a soft sound of discomfort. Will moves, his locked knot forcing Hannibal's hips to rise as Hannibal adjusts his upper body to something more comfortable than the opportunistic and ungainly sprawl Will had put him in. "I'll kill you if you get me pregnant," he adds lightly.

Will laughs. "I'll kill you if you get knocked up," he replies, just as fond. He nuzzles Hannibal's hair and, deeming it safe, or at least worth the risk, he turns his head and licks into his mouth, tasting the wine he was drinking and the meal they both shared mere hours ago. "Don't worry, baby, it was all part of the fun."

"If you would like to indulge in rape and impregnation fantasies, I'm happy to oblige," Hannibal murmurs. "Though I think it would be better sportsmanship not to drug me beforehand. Or is that part of the 'fun'?"

Will hums, and doesn't answer.

Hannibal's lips twitch in a smile, and he lifts his hand in a slow motion, curling his fingers in Will's soft, wild hair. Will purrs for him, nuzzling into his palm, smiling when Hannibal gives a soft rumble in answer. When Will's knot goes down, he pulls out, growling with pleasure at the sight of his come leaking out with Hannibal's slick, a thick sheen staining his thighs. He pulls his clothes back up so that they get ruined there, too, and plasters himself over his mate, dragging his sticky and dirty cock along his bared skin.

Will swallows, closes his eyes, rests his cheek on Hannibal's shoulder as Hannibal continues to idly play with the ends of his hair. "I think it's both," he confesses. "I wanna fuck you up, but I also want to take care of you." He sighs. "Drugging you means I don't have to plan in advance; I can do whichever pleases me most."

"You do have a rather powerful streak of impulsiveness and unpredictability," Hannibal says, and Will smiles. His words are less slurred, now; he's recovering. "I happily submit to your whims, then; whichever you decide."

"How gracious," Will murmurs dryly. He kisses Hannibal's shoulder and rises, pushing himself to his feet. He runs his hands through his hair and tucks his cock back into his clothes, eyeing Hannibal where he's still prone and helpless on the couch. His tongue drags along his lower lip, his nostrils flare. Hannibal smells good all the time, but he's particularly decadent when he's got Will's stench all over him.

"Come join me upstairs when you can walk," he says with another wide smile, laughing when Hannibal huffs and rolls his eyes, but can only nod. Certainly in no state to give chase or attack. Will likes him like this. "I brought the handcuffs, hid them downstairs. You're gonna want them if you plan on paying me back."

Hannibal blinks, and meets his eyes. They're dark with challenge, and his smile is wide, and fond, and sharp with anticipation. "Of course, darling. I'll see you soon."

Will hums, and kneels down in front of him, taking his face in his hands and kissing Hannibal deeply, until there is no color in his eyes but gold. Then, he rises, and grabs the tape recorder, stopping the recording. Hannibal's eyes flash when he sees it and Will grins at him.

"Nights get lonely without you, baby," he purrs, and tucks it back into his bag. He shoulders it, and turns to go upstairs. "Don't worry; I'll play it back loud so you can hear. Don't keep me waiting."

With that, he leaves, to the sound of Hannibal's low, outraged growl. He grins to himself, sure that he's in for a long night of teeth and knives and Hannibal, wild and raw in his bed. He indulges his mate's flights of fancy and little obsessions, but refuses to let himself be forgotten for long. Hook, line, sinker, he feels the tug of Hannibal's mating bond in his chest, compelling him to return, but ignores it. Hannibal feels it too, of that he has no doubt, and soon enough he will succumb to it.

He goes to Hannibal's room and plugs the recorder into Hannibal's stereo system, which is rigged to play throughout the entire house. Soon enough the sounds of Hannibal getting ruthlessly fucked and bred up echo in the silence, and Will sighs, sheds his clothes, and settles down on the bed, cock in hand and eyes closed, and waits.


End file.
